


Brotherly Love

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert - for episode 3: Brothers in Arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT<br/>This is a stand alone.<br/>Based on episode 3: Brothers in Arms.<br/>As usual I take dialog from the show and usually hurt d'Artagnan in some way.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherly Love

_Duke of Orlean's estate_

Pounding heavily on the Duke of Orlean’s door the four Musketeers impatiently waited outside for someone to answer. When the door does finally open they face an irate Gaston.

“How dare you wake me in the middle of the night!” Gaston not only was upset about the ungodly hour but concerned as to what was needed of him. He recognized the uniform of a Musketeer when he saw one, even exiled as he had been for three years.

“The king wants to see you,” Athos noted the alarmed look upon the duke’s face though Gaston tried to hide it, albeit not very well.

“Am I in trouble?” Gaston uncharacteristically blurted out, not meaning to show these men his fear.

“All we know is that we have to get you to the palace without delay,” Aramis gave the duke a pointed look. Hoping that Gaston would not dither around and come with them immediately. The duke wasn’t the only one with interrupted sleep issues.

++++

_En route to the palace_

“Why such urgency?” Gaston was surrounded by the Musketeers on all sides as they rode through some back streets of Paris. He didn’t care who answered his query just that his own anxieties were getting the better of him right now. Gaston feared he may stoop to doing something foolish.

Not bothering to answer the duke, d’Artagnan leaned forward in his saddle. “Pull up your hood.”

That something _foolish_ Gaston was afraid he would do came shortly after putting up the hood of his cloak as ordered. Knowing this would hurt him, Gaston risked it anyway making his horse rear up and throw him off. Landing hard on the ground he went into his act.

Thinking that the duke had hurt himself, all the Musketeers quickly ushered the duke inside a nearby tavern. When they finally settled him in a chair it wasn’t long afterward that Gaston shouted he had been robbed.

Confusion and mayhem abounded when Gaston jumped up and began shooting people. The inn had been full of ex-military soldiers who already were bitter against the king for not seeing to their needs after the war in Burgundy. So now, seeing dead comrades at their feet, they wanted justice for them and were ready to kill the person responsible.

“You can’t kill me,” Gaston announced, a smug look crossed his face, “I’m the Duke of Orleans, the king’s brother!"

"Ya know," Porthos whispered low for d'Artagnan to hear, "right about now I wouldn't mind if someone would get rid of the runt." Seeing d'Artagnan did not appear amused by his jest, Porthos looked away only to encounter Athos' hard gaze. Thinking that he better keep his mouth shut about the king's brother, at least while still inside the tavern with men who wanted to rip the duke apart, Porthos carried on with crowd control.

The Musketeers noted that Gaston's announcement didn't go over any better than the duke’s accusation that someone had stolen his property. But Athos managed to calm the enraged citizens down with the help of Sylvie who happened to be in the tavern. “We’re leaving now,” he looked around the room, “we will come back.”

“Athos is the captain of the Musketeers. He will keep his word,” Sylvie spoke up for him to Christophe, who appeared to be the unspoken leader of the group and also the proprietor of the establishment.

With a harried look at his brothers, Athos ordered them to take Gaston away. “Get him out of here.” Glancing at the angry men all Athos could say was, “I’m sorry.”

++++

_Garrison_

The first person Gaston recognized when they entered the garrison was Philippe. “Brother, praise God!”

“It’s a family reunion,” Porthos grunted. “Oh look.”

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Feron greeted Gaston, irony in his tone. “Barely five minutes in Paris and already three men are dead,” he wasn’t pleased to have heard about his younger brother's escapades. “Why are you here?”

He couldn't hold himself back any longer. "This man is a murderer!" Aramis shouted.

'This fool and his friends dragged me out of my bed at an ungodly hour without ceremony saying that the king had sent for me," Gaston appealed to Philippe for understanding.

Worry lines formed on Feron's forehead upon hearing that news.

"Three innocent bystanders are dead because of you," d'Artagnan tucked his hands into his weapon's belt.

"None of you did anything to help me!" Gaston complained, turning once more to look at his brother for sympathy.

Feron took Gaston off the Musketeer's hands despite Athos' words. "Come, we will see Louis together as brothers should."

"The king placed the duke in our custody." It was wasted breath on the likes of Feron. The governor would do as he pleased no matter what anyone said. It disgusted Athos to no end.

Standing beside Captain Marcheaux, who hadn't uttered a word the entire time, Porthos remembered what just happened at the tavern and what they've put up with so far from this Red Guard officer. "I left a good clean war for this." He hoped Marcheaux understood Porthos' meaning without him having to beat the captain about the head.

++++

_Royal Palace, throne room_

Standing beside Queen Anne, Treville wondered why in the world King Louis brought Gaston back. "He tried to overthrow you, Sire. Gaston cannot be trusted."

"I can keep my own council on who can and can't be trusted, Treville," King Louis glanced over at his queen and then quickly looked away.

When Gaston found himself in the presence of his brother he's naturally scared, not knowing what Louis wanted from him.

"Tis been three years," Louis murmured to his brother, seeing nothing but fear on Gaston's features.

"I am happy for this day, Louis," Gaston acted pleased. "To be in your presence once more is all I could have hoped for."

Queen Anne and Treville shared incredulous looks knowing Gaston wasn't trustworthy in the least and was just playing lip service to the king.

Tightly holding onto Gaston's hand, Louis leveled a steady look upon him. "Time to build bridges, brother."

For once both Governor Feron and Minister Treville were in the same boat, being kept in the dark.

"You didn't know about any of this?" Treville would be shocked if Feron hadn't.

"Non," Feron shrugged. "And neither did you it would appear." Which made Feron wonder about what was going on in the king's mind that he hadn't discussed any of this with his minister.

++++

_Outside the throne room_

Waiting for Gaston, Feron held out his cane, blocking the way, so his younger brother had to stop. "Bravo on a fine performance. You even had me believing it for all of one minute." Seeing Gaston was going to be tight lipped he added, "If you find things falling apart around you come to me."

++++

_Minister Treville's office_

Slamming his hands on his desk, Treville glared at Athos. "Who robbed him?"

"It was packed to the rafters. It could have been one of many." Athos realized that was a flimsy excuse at best but that was all he had to give.

"Why wasn't I aware of any of this?" Treville was highly upset at his captain and King Louis' actions.

"His Majesty gave me direct orders, sir."

"The king is not himself," Treville ran a hand down the side of his face. "Athos, you must start thinking like a leader not just a soldier," he sighed. "We must tell each other everything."

++++

_Garrison_

When Athos rode into the garrison it pleased him to see d'Artagnan training recruits. Now the shoe was indeed on the other foot. Taking the steps to his office he observed the session and his younger brother.

Watching Clairmont sparring with another recruit, d'Artagnan scowled in displeasure. "Stop!" He walked over to Clairmont. "Leave yourself open like that and you're dead. This is not a game," d'Artagnan nearly stood on top of Clairmont's feet ramming his point home. "Do you understand?" Not getting a response he shouted louder. " _DO YOU UNDERSTAND!_ " Getting a shaky nod in return, d'Artagnan's lips barely formed a smile.

He tapped Clairmont's head and then his heart. "Head over heart every time," seeing that his words were understood, d'Artagnan stepped back. "All right, good." He slapped Clairmont affectionately on the back of the boy's neck. Glancing up toward the balcony d'Artagnan caught Athos' eye and the two acknowledged one another. He was happy Athos saw him teaching the same lesson that his mentor had originally taught him.

So concerned was he over Clairmont that d'Artagnan nearly missed losing a hand as Brujon, who was practicing with another cadet, swung out wide with his sword just missing d'Artagnan's right hand. Swinging around, d'Artagnan removed Brujon's rapier. "Clearly I have been remiss in teaching you properly." Facing the embarrassed cadet, d'Artagnan stepped back, raised his own rapier and threw Brujon's back at him. "En garde!"

++++

_Saint Antoine_

Understanding that Minister Treville couldn't twist the king's arm in making Gaston apologize to the war veterans, d'Artagnan and Aramis scoured for clues as to the whereabouts of this thief they were hunting.

"Tis a shame," d'Artagnan remarked. "All they want is justice, the same as we would if it had happened to one of us."

"Perhaps Sylvie could be of some help in that direction," Aramis pointed down the street to where the young woman stood. "She does seem to know what goes on around here better than we do."

"Sylvie," d'Artagnan caught up to her, "back at the tavern did you see anything? Anything at all?"

Rounding on him, Sylvie sneered. "I saw an aristocrat murder three innocent men while the four of you stood by and did nothing."

"That isn't the question," Aramis folded his arms and stood watching her, upset at Sylvie's accusation.

Mirroring Aramis' stance she retorted, "It's the only question."

"What were you doing with a group of soldiers?" d'Artagnan was anything if not persistant.

Getting closer to Aramis' side, Sylvie wore a coy smile. "I like soldiers."

"I see that you do," Aramis was on the verge of flirting with her until d'Artagnan broke the mood.

"Now is not the time," d'Artagnan glared at his brother. Aramis maybe four years out of practice but he was trying to make up for it at the most inopportune times.

"We're just talking," Aramis snapped. Then figured he better start acting in a professional manner or d'Artagnan may go telling tales back to Athos. "Did you steal the duke's purse?"

Looking between both soldiers Sylvie muttered something unintelligible and stomped away.

"I do love a woman with attitude," Aramis grinned, watching her retreating figure.

"Aramis," d'Artagnan threw up his hands. It appeared the only thing that changed about Aramis was that he now wore the uniform of a Musketeer again, which he had gladly cast aside his monk's robes for. It was a wonder he stayed sane at the monastery that entire time he was away. "Let's get going or Athos will have both our heads."

++++

_Governor Feron's office_

When Gaston came to Feron, nearly beside himself, blabbering that it wasn't money that was stolen from him it was letters. Letters between himself and the Duke of Lorraine and allies across France, Feron shouldn't have been surprised. A leopard doesn't change its spots.

"I didn't know Louis would take me back," Gaston looked like he was ready to pass out. "You have to help me!"

"So you would raise an army against Louis," Feron snorted. "Such _brotherly love_ , Gaston," he chuckled. But Feron figured he could use this to his advantage. After calming his brother down he pulled Lucien aside. "If we could get our hands on those letters detailing the list of nobles that would go against our king it would be worth our trouble."

"I'll tell Captain Marcheaux what needs to be done," Lucien quietly left the room.

++++

_Back at the tavern_

Talking to Athos and Porthos, Christophe explained to them that King Louis hadn't help them and left the veterans to fend for themselves and their families. "But I will help you find the culprit but in return the king will put his brother on trial for murder."

When they left Athos found a note on is horse that after the funeral the thief will hand over the documents they stole from Gaston. "So it would seem Gaston lied about losing money."

"Ya kiddin' me," Porthos shook his head. "Gaston's nothin' but one big lie ta begin with."

"Tomorrow's the funeral," Athos grimly reminded his brother. "Tis to be hoped a peaceful one."

++++

_Next day - the tavern once more where the service is being held_

All four Musketeers sat and listened to Christophe speak. Leaning close to Athos, d'Artagnan whispered in his ear. "Do we know who this thief could be?"

"We'll know soon enough," Athos replied softly.

"Til we pay our respects first," Porthos added.

When Captain Marcheaux burst into the funeral service, d'Artagnan saw red... literally. "You really do have no shame do you?"

"Shame belongs to the one that stole from the duke," Marcheaux retorted.

Of course pandemonium broke out and Marcheaux decided it was good form to shoot one of the veterans at the service, killing the man instantly, while the Musketeers tried to hold the rest of the angry mob back. It was a blessing when Treville strode in and ordered the Red Guards to withdraw. He stood toe to toe with Marcheaux staring the captain down with a steely-eyed look.

Now all the former war heroes wanted to do was rush the palace and seek satisfaction for justice in the only way left open to them.

"Men, come with me," Treville ordered. "I need witnesses. The king won't listen to reason or to me it would seem."

++++

_Royal Palace, throne room_

"Sire, this is now more than just about money that was taken," Athos could tell King Louis didn't what to hear this.

"Your own war heroes want ta march on the palace," Porthos said.

"There are men just like these in every borough of Paris," d'Artagnan added.

"What will they do when they hear how their king acts?" Treville really hoped His Majesty would take heed.

"This is a fire that should not be lit," Athos noted King Louis looked about to throw them all out. And Athos always hated it when he was right.

"Leave me!" King Louis waved his hand. "This instant!"

Treville stayed behind and nearly wished he hadn't as it ended up with the two of them arguing. But he was devastated to find out the king was dying of the White Plague.

"Tis why I brought Gaston back," King Louis explained. "To be strong for my son."

"Half of Paris hates him," Treville tried to make the king see reason.

"Dearly as I love you, Treville," King Louis held back tears, "if you breathe a word of this to my queen or anyone else I will have you hung without a moment's hesitation."

After His Majesty left the room, Treville collapsed into a chair and began to cry knowing that this would be the king's last summer in Paris. Composing himself he left the room knowing his men were waiting for him. "The king wants me to talk alone with the veterans." He knew that wasn't going to go over well with his men when Treville noticed the Musketeer's all wore the same belligerent expressions.

"Not without me ya aren't," Porthos stepped forward.

Walking down the hall, Athos glanced sideways at the minister. "I thought we were telling each other everything," he quirked a brow. Not receiving an answer, Athos kept silently walking beside Treville all the way out of the palace.

Following behind, d'Artagnan and Aramis exchanged a look of bewilderment.

++++

_Back at the tavern... again (honestly, this is where everything's happening)  
_

When Treville and Porthos entered the tavern, naturally they ended up in a fight. Outnumbered they were taken prisoner. "You'll be our hostages," Christophe announced. When Athos and his men arrived, Christophe went out to meet them. "What would the king give to gain his friends back?" Christophe shouted to Athos.

"It's never going to happen!" Athos yelled back.

With the cadets all lined up behind cover, d'Artagnan kept watch on them. Some had twitchy fingers and it got on his nerves. "Stand down!" he snapped at them.

"We can still end this peacefully!" Aramis added his voice to his captain's. He still couldn't wrap his mind around that this was happening. How in the hell did it come to this?

"This will end. But whether or not its peaceful," Christophe paused, "bien, that's up to you."

After hearing that, Athos ordered Aramis and d'Artagnan, along with the cadets to remain behind while he went to talk with King Louis.

++++

_Royal Palace, throne room... again (we do seem to keep going back and forth between the tavern and the palace don't we?)  
_

"Their demands are impossible!" King Louis was extremely frustrated. "This will bankrupt us!"

"They'll kill Treville and Porthos," Athos wanted his message to be clearly understood. He wasn't pleased when Feron put his two cents in that the Red Guard would take care of it. Seeing the sniveling Gaston standing off to the side and hearing him tell everyone he doesn't want to go, made Athos sick to his stomach. Gaston was a prime example of what a coward looked like. "Sire, let us try first." When His Majesty agreed, Athos started to leave at once.

"Musketeer," Feron called out. "Know this," he smirked. "If you fail the Red Guard will get the job done." And if that meant killing the Musketeers along with Treville so be it. It would leave the way clear for him and Lucien to take over Paris the way they wanted.

Shortly after that veiled threat, Grimaud and Captain Marcheaux had a little talk. "The Musketeer rescue will fail. Make sure of it, captain."

"With pleasure," Marcheaux wore a feral smile as he took his leave.

++++

_Tavern (need I say more?)_

Behind the relative safety of their own barricade, d'Artagnan paced back and forth eyeing the cadets carefully. "Stay calm. Make sure they can see us at all times," he kept his eyes on Brujon who appeared to be on the twitchy side. "No sudden movements."

When Brujon raised his pistol, d'Artagnan was on him in a heartbeat. "What are you doing?" d'Artagnan hissed. "Lower your pistol!" Angry that he had to berate the cadet, d'Artagnan still tacked on for good measure, "No one is to draw a weapon without my order!"

In the meantime Athos talked to Christophe. "I need to know my men are alive." He was very relieved when they brought out Porthos for him to see. "Be strong, mon frere, as you were at Alsace." Turning to d'Artagnan, Athos announced in a clear voice for all to hear, "Go tell the king they're alive."

But instead of following those orders, d'Artagnan had prior ones. Slipping inside another building, close to the tavern, he joined Aramis who was in the lower levels knocking out a brick wall. Seeing the large opening d'Artagnan readied himself. "Good. Porthos knows," he threw Aramis an encouraging look. "They're ready." Grabbing a lit torch, d'Artagnan started to lead the way until Aramis stopped him.

"What happened at Alsace?"

"Porthos got captured by a Spanish regiment. We had to get him out," he smiled in memory of what that entailed. "We came in through tunnels underneath."

"Resourceful," Aramis was amazed that his brothers were able to pull such a rescue effort off.

"Reckless more like," d'Artagnan grinned, knowing that when all four of them had been together they too enjoyed their own reckless moments.

As they began to move under the tavern Grimaud hovered in the background unseen, waiting to make his move.

Glancing at his younger brother, Aramis gave him a quick wink. "Ready?"

"Ready," d'Artagnan knew the signal and waited for it. When the sounds of shooting began, d'Artagnan chuckled. "Tis to be hoped that Athos and our cadets will cause enough distraction to let us reach Porthos and the minister in time."

++++

In the upper level of the tavern, Treville and Porthos hung from the rafters. The shots coming from the direction of the cadets were a _bit_ off the mark when some of them came quite close to hitting them.

"They need ta work on their shootin skills'," Porthos grunted, swaying his body out of the way of a musket ball that chipped the wooden beam beside him.

Running into the room, Aramis and d'Artagnan easily took care of the veterans standing guard over their friends. When they overpowered them, both Musketeers freed their comrades and ushered them back out the way they came in.

But back in the tunnel Grimaud lit a fuse, watching it take its path to some barrels of gunpowder. "Let's see what those Musketeers are made of."

When the unexpected explosion happened, d'Artagnan got separated from the others. Thrown hard against the brick wall he literally saw stars. Fighting to not pass out, d'Artagnan managed to get back to his friends who all appeared unscathed albeit covered with dirt and dust.

"Are you all right?" With his medic's eye Aramis gave a quick once over the lad who appeared white as death.

Rapping on his head a few times, d'Artagnan shrugged. "Remember we Gascons are known for having hard skulls."

Slapping his younger brother on the back, Aramis gave d'Artagnan a gentle push in the right direction. By the time they reached the outside it was to a most unwelcome sight. The Red Guards were swarmed all around them as they came to wipe out all the old war heroes.

Since he lied telling Aramis he was fine, d'Artagnan didn't want to worry his brother that he felt definitely _off_. Knowing he probably was dealing with a concussion, d'Artagnan kept his own council. Throwing up right now would be just the worst thing he could do, drawing the attention of his brothers upon himself when they had more important matters on hand. Breathing through his nose, d'Artagnan prayed he wouldn't do something stupid like passing out.

Having heard Athos trying to talk sense to Christophe, d'Artagnan jumped in. "Let us help you." Going back to the cadets, pistol at the ready, he yelled, "Fall back!" When Athos told him to go for the gunpower in the tavern, Josephine followed him. She was nervous when she handed d'Artagnan a packet of documents. Looking up at her he realized who she was. "You're the thief." He listened to her as Josephine explained how she would lift patron's purses to help keep the tavern afloat, not that Christophe ever knew. "Pick pockets like men of Gaston."

"Please, d'Artagnan, this would destroy Christophe if he knew," she pleaded with the young Musketeer.

"We may be dead before then, Madame," he brushed past her carrying a barrel of gunpowder over his shoulder, stumbling slightly as his vision chose that moment to grey out. When d'Artagnan found himself outside, still standing upright, his heart plummeted to the soles of his feet. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Some rescue mission this turned out to be. He refused to believe they would lose this day. Shaking off the dizziness that threatened to overcome him, d'Artagnan placed the gunpower down. Drawing out his rapier he and the others were crawling out of the barricade to do battle, even though it appeared everything was stacked against them.

A glimmer of hope came when out of the blue came Constance, Musketeers, cadets and even Sylvie along with a group of refugees, burst their way forward. Taking the Red Guards by surprise, the odds were more than even now. In fact they outnumbered the Red Guards who looked like they didn't know what was going on, judging by the confusion d'Artagnan saw on the guards' faces.

Holding her sword level at Marcheaux' chest, Constance was glad when d'Artagnan joined her pointing his own rapier at Marcheaux's vulnerable neck.

"You're interfering with the king's orders," Marcheaux barked.

"A coward hides behind his orders," she glared at him in distaste as if he were lower than a tiny insect. "Only a man steps out in front of them. You are no man are you?"

It was to d'Artagnan's delight, after their side eventually won, that he observed Minister Treville punch Captain Marcheaux in the face. Turning to Constance, d'Artagnan kissed her on the forehead. "Have I told you how brilliant you can be?" He knew that it was because of Constance that all the troops had been rallied to save their skin. 

"Mmmmm," she hummed, "not lately," her eyes danced. "But it's something a girl likes to hear every now and then."

Wishing though that he hadn't opened his mouth to speak, d'Artagnan felt bile trying to claw its way out of his throat to spew out any minute. Holding his smile in tact despite his urge to vomit, d'Artagnan tried to pretend he was okay.

Everyone's cheerfulness at their victory turned quickly to sorrow when they saw Josephine stumble out of the tavern, critically wounded, to collapse into Christophe's arms.

Kneeling down beside the dying woman d'Artagnan would not let Christophe find out how Josephine had been stealing. Looking at her sadly, d'Artagnan took her hand. "You fought bravely, Josephine. "You kept your honor," a brief glance at Christophe's grim face d'Artagnan continued, "you both did."

When d'Artagnan stood back up, this time he swayed so badly he fell backward into Porthos who deftly caught him with one massive arm.

Looking over his younger brother's head, Porthos grimaced noting Aramis' angry face. "I think d'Artagnan's hurt."

Sweeping his hat off his head, Aramis huffed. "I know he is!" Marching over, Aramis took d'Artagnan's chin in his hand. With his other he examined the lad's pupils. "Concussion. Mon Dieu! What are we going to do with you, eh?"

"What is wrong?" Athos came up from behind when he noticed his friends all gathered around d'Artagnan. Stiffening his resolve, he prepared himself to hear that the lad had once again gotten hurt.

"We were caught in an explosion during our rescue mission and d'Artagnan told me his skull was thick and he was fine," Aramis rolled his eyes.

"And _you_ of all people believed him?" Athos raised both his brows. "Give him to me," he ordered. "I'll see to it he's taken care of."

"I'm standing right here," d'Artagnan eyes were mere slits, trying to open his heavy eyelids proved fruitless. Though he wondered why he bothered in the first place since everything was out of focus anyway and the world refused to stop spinning.

"Yeah, we see that," Porthos shook his head. "He's worse than the lot of us put tagether at times."

"You think?" Athos put his arm around the lad and began steering him away from the throng of people. "I will procure a wagon for d'Artagnan and any others that need medical treatment," Athos glanced at Aramis. "See who needs transported to the garrison."

++++

_Later, Royal Palace (I swear it's the last time)  
_

Treville showed the documents clearly implicating Gaston and other nobles in conspiring against the monarchy to King Louis. He wanted to scream and shout the place down when His Majesty still didn't want to see what his brother was capable of. But he did get the king to not punish the war veterans. The last Treville saw of Gaston was when Porthos escorted the duke to the Bastille. He had to wonder what was behind Feron ordering that and knew it wouldn't involve anything good for France in the long run.

++++

_Infirmary (see... somewhere new)  
_

"D'Artagnan sustained a severe concussion," Doctor Devereaux announced to the lad's worried brothers who stood before him. "I don't understand how he functioned at all today."

"Lad told Mis that it was because he had a thick head," Porthos' brown eyes twinkled.

" _Skull_... _thick skull_ ," d'Artagnan insisted, barely keeping himself awake.

"Semantics," Athos spoke up from one side of the bed. "Seeing that you're going to survive," Athos put his chapeau back on, "I've got captain duties to perform." With a tug on d'Artagnan's left foot, that barely peeked out from under his blanket, Athos departed.

"I gotta go to," Porthos reached out to ruffle d'Artagnan's hair but Devereaux intercepted his arm. Seeing the doctor shaking his head at him, Porthos frowned.

"D'Artagnan's got enough of a headache," Devereaux huffed. "You don't want to be adding to it."

Understanding dawned and Porthos bent low to whisper in the lad's ear. "Don't worry none about Zad. I'll take care of him until you're back on your feet." The last thing Porthos saw before he left was Aramis standing over d'Artagnan's bed with both hands on his hips. Better d'Artagnan than me when Aramis gets all riled up.

"Next time," Aramis glowered at d'Artagnan, "and I know there will be a _next time_. You won't lie when you're hurt or even just feeling unwell."

"I'm sorry, Aramis," d'Artagnan muttered, not daring to take a peek at his brother's scowling face. "Glad you came back with us though."

That took the anger out of his sails as Aramis dragged a chair over to the bed and flung himself down upon it.

"Vigil time again I see," Devereaux's kind eyes were alight with amusement. Patting Aramis on the shoulder he murmured, "I'll add to what d'Artagnan said," Devereaux dipped his head. "Good to have you back in the fold."

The End


End file.
